


High Steaks

by TheIcyMage



Series: Transcendence AU [10]
Category: Gravity Falls, Gravity Falls Transcendence AU, Transcendence AU - Fandom
Genre: Agatha Knife reference, Mentions of Blood, Transcendence AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-26
Updated: 2017-07-26
Packaged: 2018-12-07 10:32:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11621718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheIcyMage/pseuds/TheIcyMage
Summary: When you sell illegal meat, the risk vs reward is High Steaks.Written from this generated prompt: Hank Angry at the butcher Fantasy





	High Steaks

**Author's Note:**

> Also on tumblr: http://theitalianscribe.tumblr.com/post/163461408811/high-steaks

Hank looked around the shop with a neutral face. He normally would go to Costco or Winco for supplies, but he was preparing for a big barbecue and some of the guests they were expecting were particular about the cut of the meat.  
"Hello, I'm here to pick up my order. I called in earlier."  
The man at the front gave him a sizing glance. Hank paid him the same gesture. The tattoos on the man's arms were artistically done, though he noticed a theme of blood-red ink and scars on cartoon animals. To each their own, he supposed.  
"Yeah, it's in the back. I'll go get it."  
Hank nodded and watched the man leave. A little girl girl quickly came out of the storeroom and took his place at the counter. She had tousled dark blue hair, bags under her eyes, and a fairness to her skin that made Hank wonder how often the girl left the store.  
“I like your ring,” The girl said in a quiet voice.  
"Thanks. I like your pig shirt," Hank said to the girl.  
She looked at said pink-sleeved t-shirt with a smiling cartoon pig and grinned. "It's the Martyr of Carnivorism."  
"Oh? Is that a religion?"  
"Not for humans," She mumbled. She added some complaint about preter and pronats under her breath. She didn't seem interested in more conversation, so Hank let his eyes wonder around the store.  
Hank let his eyes wonder around the store again. The floor was wooden, as were the walls. Decorating the walls were several plaques of to... . A deer's head, a boar's head, a lion, tiger, and bear, and... Oh my! Frozen in a face that was somehow both grimacing and condescending was a white-furred, golden-horned, pastel-maned unicorn. He felt a chill go down his spine and swore he could hear the sound of distorted rave music play in his head. It sounded like an old boom-box that was long due for some sort of repair.  
"I know I'm not supposed to talk bad about my uncle, but he has some weird choices of meat. Unicorns make for the worst company, and even worse steaks!" The girl must have followed his gaze. He appreciated her distaste, though he felt a bit of concern. Both for and about this girl, along with this mentioned unique meat selection.  
"Wait, he sells unicorn meat?"  
The girl made a face, then pulled out some cue-cards and read in a monotone voice, "I wish I could say no, but, 'Here at Spencer's Choice Cuts, we offer a variety of exotic tastes. From unicorn fillet to mermaid caviar, we have a world of freshly prepared wonders.'"  
"Isn't that illegal?"  
"Yes, but the cops don't believe me." The girl whispered.  
Even in the heat of summer, Hank felt stone cold.  
There was a sound of rough footsteps. Both pair of eyes traveled to the owner of the butcher shop.  
"I got your order. Thanks for holding the fort, Aggie."  
"It's Agatha," The girl said under her breath.  
"Hmm?"  
"Can I go on my break?"  
"Fine. Here, pass out samples on the way." The man handed the self-proclaimed Agatha a plate of some cooked meat. In one motion, she set the plate down, tore off her apron, tied a teal sweater around her waist, grabbed the plate, and left.  
Hank waited until the girl was out the door to speak. First, he paid for the meat. He next pointed to the slab of unicorn meat Agatha had pointed out.  
"Is that real?"  
"Depends."  
"I was just interested. I'm going to be catering for some auction and I'm looking for ideas to satisfy the refined tongue." There actually was an auction going on. There always was. However, Hank wouldn't be catering for it so much as crashing it. Both figuratively and literally. Still, it was a lie that often worked for Auntie Paz, and Hank had just as fortunate luck.  
"What are your funds?" The man, Spencer, asked.  
Hank pulled out a slip of paper and pretended to think something over. He turned the paper around and held back a smirk at the way Spencer drooled.  
"All of our meat is authentic and prepared each morning."  
"May I inspect your storeroom? My employers have very particular taste."  
Hank kept his snarl molded into a smile and rubbed the ring to keep his composure. When he found the chained up cryptids and creatures that he had heard the Dinner Crew report were missing, he masked the rising bile by clearing his throat. 

News was discussed over tossing salad and grilling steaks. A butcher shop kind of out of the way had closed down. Apparently the late owner was illegally capturing and slaughtering creatures such as unicorns. Based on the scene of the crime and autopsy reports, one of the creatures had cut itself loose and exacted revenge. There were no living creatures to give testament (though it went unsaid among the barbecue guests that no one would even think to actually interrogate a unicorn or werewolf unless to ensure the creatures' arrest,) though the bodies, both uncut and prepared, were undeniably of creatures banned from slaughter and consumption in the US. 

Hank was thanked for the specially-prepared steak. The cut he origanally bought was sloppy and more bone and fat than meat, but he luckily had happened upon a backup. When he passed by the shop, he couldn't find any sign of the girl and there was no mention of a niece in the reports. He did, however, find a cooler left on his doorstep and manotaur hoofprints tracking mud up his sidewalk and behind a tree. Inside the cooler was a note and a cut of the same animal with more of the meat than fat and bone. The had doodles of a pink pig, Hank's ring, and some sheep, followed by the words, “Thank You!”  
As the party had already started, Hank piled a hamburger and other foods he knew manotaur often enjoyed onto a paper plate and left the plate where the cooler had been. Taped to the plate was an envelope with what he had paid Spencer plus a tip. On the back he wrote, “Happy to help. Good luck with Carnivorism.”  
He wasn't sure if she got it, but he did have a strange dream of a blue-haired girl standing next to a large pig drooling blood. (If Hank were to get nightmares from that, Uncle Dipper reported, they may taste like raw steak.)


End file.
